


Beyond the Rainbow

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Romance, crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossover w/ST:V. Everybody comes to Rick's, if they arre lonely enough. Sometimes you just need someone else who's lonely, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the Rainbow

## Beyond the Rainbow

by Jantique

Pet Fly having abandoned them, Jim and Blair, like Lincoln, now belong to the ages.

* * *

**"BEYOND THE RAINBOW"**

by JANTIQUE 

SEN/VOY CROSSOVER (Ellison/Paris), with Special Guest Appearances. 

The proprietor of the nightclub stepped out of his office onto the small balcony overlooking the main room, and surveyed the main room. Soft lighting shadowed intimate tables for two. Sometimes for one, before one and one became two. A bar serving drinks ran along one wall. The piano, on wheels, moved about as required to play that special song for whoever wanted it. A miniscule karaoke stage completed the room. He didn't concern himself with the casino in the back room--that was strictly business. This room was something more, was something special for him. This was a place for lovers to meet, a place where you could rail against/sigh over lost loves, and find new ones. People--and beings--who couldn't meet anywhere else came here. Anyone was welcome, provided they didn't break the furniture, and were quiet and showed some respect when some poor slob was up on stage singing his heart out. 

He straightened his white dinner jacket and looked over the room with satisfaction. It was still early, the room wasn't crowded, but several couples were sipping champagne cocktails. (The drinks could have been flaming, but they wouldn't have noticed--their eyes were locked on each other. As they should be.) Sam played background music. (No, not _that_ song. Louis didn't like it.) His lover stepped out on the balcony beside him, fastening his belt, and looked the scene over with more of an eye toward security than romance. 

He recognized the couple in the far corner, a man with sandy brown hair wearing a gold shirt with what he'd been assured were Captain's stripes. (However, that was some sort of Navy. An army man himself, Captain Renault naturally held the other services in disdain.) His companion was tall with black hair, wearing a blue shirt. He looked _mostly_ human, except for his ears. Well, you got all types, nowadays. Rick welcomed them all. Renault knew from experience that those two wouldn't cause trouble themselves, but if a good fight started, they would wind up in the middle of it. 

The soldier-of-fortune type leaning against the bar, gesturing animatedly at the fair-haired man in white robes. (The latter's sword, or whatever it was, had been checked at the door. No weapons allowed.) Brother-in-law, HA! Louis knew something about women. Either the sister didn't know what was going on, or maybe she did, but either way, sooner or later there would be trouble. Hopefully not here. 

He touched Rick's arm. "That one, sitting alone. He's police." He pointed toward a tall man with short brown hair drinking beer, making circles on the table from the glass's condensation. Occasionally he added long squiggly hair lines to the circles. 

Rick cocked an eyebrow. "Do you have a fraternity? You can all recognize each other?" 

"I happen to be a trained observer of human nature. He's American, too." 

"Thanks, I figured out _that_ much myself." 

Rick and Louis sat at an empty table in the back. Things were quiet for a while. People came in. Ivanova and Gabrielle were regulars. It was an off-night, though, and no one wanted to sing. Sam played "The Very Thought of You" and "It Had To Be You". 

A young man with short strawberry-blond curls walked over to the piano and spoke to Sam for a minute, then climbed onto the stage and took the microphone. He had long fingers, a long, thin frame. He sat on the edge of the stage, his legs dangling over. He was wearing a bright blue shirt and black uniform pants. Sam wheeled the piano over the side of the stage and began to play. In a hesitant tenor voice, the man started to sing. 
    
    
            Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high,
            There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.
            Somewhere, over the rainbow, skies are blue,
            And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.
    
            The brown-haired man put down his beer and looked up.  The song had caught his attention.  He watched for a minute.  This kid was nothing like Blair.  He had short reddish hair; Blair had luscious long brown curls.  He seemed quiet, almost shy; Blair was always ebullient.  He looked waif-like, needy; Blair was fiercely independent.  Oh, yeah--this guy might be available.  Blair firmly, definitely, Forever WASN'T.
    
            Someday I'll wish upon a star
            And wake up where the clouds are
            Far behind me.
    
            It didn't matter how far you went, Jim knew.  He'd been all over the world, and never known what he was looking for.  When he found his heart's desire in his own backyard--hell, in his own HOME--he hadn't been able to get close enough to touch it.  He might as well be on the other side of the galaxy.
    
            Where troubles melt like lemon drops
            Away above the chimney tops,
            That's where you'll find me.
    
            He wasn't here looking for sex--at least, not just sex.  He'd tried the quick, anonymous fuck route, keeping his eyes closed and pretending with all his might.  That didn't work any more.  He wanted someone . . . oh, not the next love of his life, but someone . . . he could keep his eyes open and look at.  That wasn't a lot to ask for, was it?  He was lonely.  Maybe the kid was, too.  They could be lonely together.  He got up and walked over to the stage.
    
            Somewhere, over the rainbow, bluebirds fly.
            Birds fly over the rainbow--why then, oh why, can't I?
    
            The singer looked up.  Blue eyes met blue in a sudden flash of recognition, a heartbeat-skipping shock of seeing someone you've never seen and _knowing_ , not the unimportant details of name or nationality, but knowing that this person is the One, or one of the possible Ones.  Had you but world enough and time, you would drink him in forever and never leave his side.  Or pass in the night, it could go either way.
    
            The young man slipped off the edge of the stage.  He was taller than Jim had realized.   He quirked a grin.  "Hi, I'm Tom."
    
            Ellison swallowed.  He was having trouble remembering his own name.  "I'm . . . Jim.  Would you like to dance?"
    
            They held each other, wondering.  This was a place where you left your personal history outside.  But it was hard to leave the past behind.  Tom said knowingly, "So, who's Mr. Wrong?"
    
            Jim grimaced. "My roommate.  _Just_ roommate.  He has a black book of names just a little thicker than the P. D.'s Known Criminals list.  And _every_ name in it is female."
    
            "Ouch."
    
            "You?"
    
            "Oh, I'm in love with this guy who's hopelessly in love with the Captain.  She's not in love with him, and he _knows_ it, but . . . he can't get over her any more than I can get over him."  He took a breath, and looked in Jim's eyes.  "But anyway, he's not here tonight, and--" --sudden flash of a cocky grin-- "--I am."  Jim pulled him closer, grinding their bodies together.  They'd find a private room, but later.  Right now they both just needed to hold, and be held.
    

Rick and Louis took a last look around the caf. Satisfied, they went back up the stairs into the office. Jim and Tom clung to each other, slowly swaying as Sam played "Ne Me Quitte Pas". They had a few hours, maybe the rest of the night. It wasn't enough. It was all they had. 
    
    
            If happy little bluebirds fly 
            Beyond the rainbow--
            Why, oh why, can't I?
    

* * *

* * *

End Beyond the Rainbow by Jantique: Jantique@webtv.net

Author and story notes above.

  
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